Why Do Bad Things Always Happen When I Drink Tequila?

The first time I ever drank tequila was back in October of 1987. My roommate and I had gone over to a friend of his apartment to drink tequila. I don’t remember how much I had, I just remember laying on the floor of her apartment, hoping that I wouldn’t puke. The next day, I was walking back to my dorm room from class when I saw a fire, just across the street from campus. “Hey!” I thought. “Isn’t that where Ginger’s apartment is?” (Ginger being the gal on whose floor I’d spent much of the previous evening.)

So I run to try and get a good look, and sure enough, its Ginger’s apartment that’s burning. Thankfully, Ginger wasn’t at home when the fire broke out, though her female cat, Mr. Ed wasn’t as fortunate. I took that as a sign from the gods not to touch the stuff again.

And I hadn’t, until last night. Yesterday, I went with a buddy and his fiancee to look at some property her parents had given them as an engagement present. We spent the day hiking it and figuring out the best places and ways for them to build their dream house. Then we went back to his place, ordered some Chinese, and he offered me a shot of tequila. Now, he knew what happened the last time I’d had tequila as I’d told him about it, so I said that I wouldn’t be held responsible for anything that happened and I had a shot.

At some point, he and I finished the fifth and I passed out. I woke up on the floor this morning with a blanket over me. As I lay there on the floor, I felt my gut talking to me. I’ve got irritable bowel, so when my gut starts talking to me, there’s all kinds of strange sensations that go on. I figure I gotta take a shit and get up to go take a dump.

I get into the bathroom and realize that, no, I don’t have to take a shit, because its going to come out the other end. I make a rather violent offering in the holy recepticle for the great gods Ralph and Huey. Gasp for breath, flush the toilet, and proceed to offer up another sacrifice. Eventually, the thirst of the gods was quenched and I staggered out of the bathroom, found some flat Sprite in the refridgerator and used that to wash some of the taste out of my mouth.

Exactly one hour later, the gods call for another sacrifice. So I make another offering of leftover Chinese food with a Sprite chaser. Then I realize that I’ve got to shit. Naturally, the first thing that runs through my mind is: Okay, what happens if both ends decide to unload at the same time? I mean, I wouldn’t care if I repainted my own bathroom, but this is someone else’s. Thankfully, I managed to get the lower end cleared before the upper end decided that it needed to unload once more.

After that, I decide that I’d like to go home. The floor’s not comfortable, and when I’m sick, I want to be in my bed, not someplace else. Problem is, I didn’t drive and I’m in no shape to walk the four miles back to my place. Can’t call anyone to come pick me up as they’re all at work, or wouldn’t know how to find the place. So I pound on dude’s door, hoping to wake him up, though the gutted twelve pack of beer in the fridge that hadn’t been there when the evening began told me the odds of this being possible were pretty slim. Sure enough, I hear his fiancee mumble a bit and get no response. While I’m trying to figure out what to do, the gods demand another sacrifice.

This time its nothing but bile. “Oh shit!” I think, and remember what happened the first time I’d gotten food poisoning. I spent most of that morning curled up around the toilet, barfing at exact intervals. At first it was every fifteen minutes, then every half hour, then every hour, until it finally quit. Of course, that time I’d emptied the contents of my stomach rather quickly and the rest of the time was spent with wracking dry heaves.

Sure enough, my gut starts trying to fling itself out my mouth, shortly after this. Thankfully, however, the attempt is short lived, and I only spend another half-hour trying to do an impression of a sea cucumber fleeing from a predator.

Finally, around one PM, dude and his finacee get up. I’m practically in tears with joy at the thought of being able to go home and curl up in my own bed. I explain my morning to him and instead of saying, “Yeah, let’s get you home.” He says, “Let me get a shower, we’ll get some breakfast and you’ll feel better.” Huh? Breakfast is not going to make me feel better! Breakfast is the last thing I want! I want my bed!

Still, there’s no reasoning with him, at this point, I realize, because he and his finacee are all snuggly and giggly and excited at the thought of the two of them taking a shower together (like they hadn’t done this thousands of times before). Well, at least, I think, the worst is over and I will be able to get out of here soon.

I was wrong. Dude turns on the TV while his fiancee putters around the house doing this and that before they get into the shower. Dude doesn’t have cable, and there’s not too much on broadcast TV in the early afternoon in Nashville. What comes on the screen when he clicks the remote? Crossing Over with John Edwards. If I hadn’t spent the previous hours empting the contents of my stomach, I’d have bazooka barfed all over the screen at this point.

Thankfully, the two of them bounced into the shower shortly after this and I could content myself by staring at Jay Jay the Jet Plane and some animal show starring two gay brothers on PBS.

If anyone ever offers me tequila again, I’ll puke all over them! I knew that there was a reason I liked scotch.

t-shirt slogans contain all necessary knowledge for life:

“one tequila
two tequila
three tequila

I know the pain

Thanks, Tuck, for that vivid reminder of why I don’t drink anymore. I used to get hangovers from three freakin’ beers - I finally got the message, and called it quits.

I don’t know why, but this paragraph cracked me up more than the rest of your rant. “Some animal show starring two gay brothers on PBS.” So vague yet so descriptive. :smiley:

Forgive me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that how tequila’s SUPPOSED to work? :smiley:

I’d thought of that one at some point during my ordeal, but I think that it was food poisoning which filled me with such religious fervor this morning.

Tequila is truly the most evil of drinks. The worst thing is, if you’re used to ‘refined’ drinks like bourbon or scotch or something like that, drinking tequila with the same intensity will just flat out kill you.

I haven’t had a drink of anything for ages, and almost felt like one today until I came along and read your account, so thanks for that ;).


I call it tokillya.

And that’s about all I have to say about that :stuck_out_tongue:

The phrase “bazooka barf” is now a permanent part of my vocabulary.

Tuckerfan, tequila is of the devil. It makes bad things happen; it is the cause of stupidity. That noxious muck that turned Dr Jekyll into Mr Hyde? Three parts tequila. Hitler was drinking tequila before he decided to invade Russia, and God was doing shots the day He invented telemarketers.

Tequila usually treats me pretty well. My problems happen when I mix vodka and Red Bull.

This part reminded me of a story a former h.s. teacher told us:

He used to be a marine biology major, and he said a big prank was to put a sea cucumber in someone’s bed, then poke at it until it did it’s little trick. Those crazy kids. :wink:

The animal show would be Zooboomafoo

The only good thing about texas. I can go ANYWHERE and get a good margarita.

Or good cheap tequila


Tequila won’t hurt you, just drink in moderation. If drinking half a 5th will almost kill you (wuss) then don’t do so.

That reminds me, I’m out of tequila.

I love tequila, but I think your problem with it might be found somewhere between those two lines that I quoted. :wink:

Eh… tequila… I could take it or leave it. It “is” the naked liquor tho’. The amount of tequila that you drink is indirectly proportional to how much clothing you’re wearing.

Now 151… that’s where the bad things “really” start happening.

Ya gotta be kiddin’! 151 is the drink of the gods! Why, I was drinkin’ 151 the night I lost my virginity! Its good for ya, it’ll put hair on your chest and burn it right back off again!

That bile’s some nasty shit, huh? Specially tequila bile. Who wants monkey diarrhea of the throat.

Last time I got sideswiped by tequila I spent the night in jail for fighting with two bouncers and kicking a cop in the nuts. If you didn’t know I was retarded before, do you finally believe me?

That was 20 years ago and a repeat performance will never be forthcoming. Mmmmm… Cabernet Savignon.

I love tequila! I agree the problem is that you don’t “finish the fifth” with one friend.

It takes at least 4 people to do it without dire consequenses! :wink:

The last time I drank more than 4 shots of tequila, I ended up dating a guy that looked like Donald Sutherland. In Space Cowboys. :eek:

And, IIRC, it was 7 shots of Petron (sp?) that did the trick. Woo, but that’s good stuff.

Yes but thats the problem. A fifth of tequila wants to be emptied, it needs to be finished. Even if there are only one or two people in the room the bottle will convince you the world will end if there is even one drop left in the bottle.